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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089729">Cat's In The Cradle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeofswords/pseuds/threeofswords'>threeofswords</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, DadSchlatt, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Fantasy, Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP Spoilers (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:54:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeofswords/pseuds/threeofswords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about the relationship between a father and his son.</p><p> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt &amp; Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson &amp; Jschlatt, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>217</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. January 15th 2005</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>January 15th, 2005</p><p>Snow cascaded around him, heavy and thick, the cold of the night weaving itself into the fabric of his overcoat. The young man reached tentatively into the back of his car and pulled something out; his hands, though sheathed in black leather gloves, shook from a mixture of the chill and the apprehension he felt. He held the thing close to his chest shielding it from the world around. Despite everything, all he had done and especially what he was about to do, he felt the responsibility to protect it from the freezing weather. A fatherly instinct.</p><p> </p><p>Slowed by the layer of snow gathering on the ground, he began to walk away from his car and towards his destination. Turning a corner around a hedge, he found himself faced with an oh so familiar sight. He stood in the centre of a narrow country lane, hedges swapped out for dry stone walls winding and twisting up the road. A large wooden gate stood guard at the entrance to the cobblestone yard. He freed a hand to push it open and made his way towards the house. It was a modest yet relatively large farmhouse, two storeys high with a sloping slate roof and a chimney on each side. It was a pleasant representation of the man who owned it. A single downstairs window, though the curtains were drawn, allowed the warm light from inside to spill through into the harsh outdoors; they were still awake.</p><p> </p><p>Finally reaching the door, he inhaled deeply and then watched as his white breath danced mystically on the air and mingled with the falling snow. It was too long since he'd last been here. He raised his hand and, after hesitating for but a moment, knocked firmly on the solid wooden door. He took a step back and wrapped both his arms tightly around the child. He waited.</p><p> </p><p>The door opened slowly, flooding the yard with the golden glow of the inside. He lifted his head to meet the eyes of the man stood before him. </p><p> </p><p>"Schlatt?" The man spoke softly, surprise and concern laced in his voice. "What's going on?" Already tears began to prick in the corner of Schlatt's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't bring himself to form the words. "Look, come inside. It's freezing out there."</p><p> </p><p>He stepped into the hallway, grateful for the hospitality, and turned around as the door was closed behind him. "Phil, I-... I tried. I tried so, so hard but I can't do it."</p><p> </p><p>"This is your son?" His tone remained steady and though he hid it well, Schlatt could sense the hint of disapproval. He nodded shamefully. "How old is he?"</p><p> </p><p>"Just over a year." </p><p> </p><p>"So you were seventeen when you…?" He nodded again. "Right. Where's his mother? Or is he… like you?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, no, he's not. He's not Baranov. His mother's dead. She was a Dryad." He glanced at Phil and immediately felt regret as his gazed seared into him. Phil was generally a calm and patient man; his anger was terrifying.</p><p> </p><p>"A Dryad? Really?!" His voice was firm and harsh yet quiet so as not to wake the sleeping child.</p><p> </p><p>"I know it was wrong, Phil, I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I never thought-" </p><p> </p><p>"No," Phil cut him off abruptly, "you never think. Is this why we stopped seeing you then? You were hiding him from us?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, I've only had him for four months. The Dryads brought him to me when she died." Tears began to streak down his cheeks and his voice was filled with desperation. Phil sighed and forced himself to regain composure. </p><p> </p><p>"Why are you here, Schlatt?" </p><p> </p><p>"Please, Phil," his voice was broken with sobs, "please help me."</p><p> </p><p>"Look, okay. I will take the boy in and I will look after him but I need you to know that no matter what, you are his father. You will visit and you will be here for him. Do you understand?" Phil spoke plainly. Schlatt nodded his head, a wide, grateful smile spreading across his face.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes. Thank you, Phil, thank you so much." Phil simply nodded and held out his arms for Schlatt to pass him the child. Once he was safe with Phil, Schlatt rested a gentle, gloved hand on the back of his son's head and pressed a short, loving kiss to his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>"He sleeps well," Phil remarked.</p><p> </p><p>"There's a song," Schlatt smiled softly, his eyes still fixed on his boy, "that they used to sing to us back home. Works like a charm." He let a small laugh. For the first time in a long while, he felt at ease.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, maybe you can teach it to me some time." Phil smiled.</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe," he spoke airily. He looked at Phil for a moment, then back down and sighed, "bye-bye, my darling. I'll see you soon." He stepped back. "Thank you, Phil. This really does mean a lot." He turned and made his way towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Schlatt," Phil said quickly. He looked back over his shoulder, "What's his name?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh!" He laughed, "It's Tubbo." </p><p> </p><p>With that, he stepped back out into the cold night and found that it didn't bother him anymore. Nothing could bother him now that he knew, no matter what, Tubbo would always be safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Temporary notes until I add more chapters:</p><p>Schlatt is part of the species called Baran/Baranov People - it's why he has the horns. Historically, the Baranov have been discriminated against in the Dream SMP which is why Phil doesn't say it out loud even though he doesn't hold those beliefs - it's just a part of society. They also don't have children in the same way.</p><p>I'll remove this when I add something about Schlatt's past but it's just here to clear up confusion for now :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. January 29th 2005</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>January 29th 2005</p><p>It had been two weeks. Two weeks that Schlatt had sat in his home alone wondering if it was ever this quiet before. He didn’t think he’d feel this way. All the stress and anxiety and fear of failure that the child had brought him and yet he found himself missing him more than he ever could have imagined. For two weeks, he had spent his time drifting aimlessly between the bed and the fridge and the couch with nothing to do; he felt as if he had lost his purpose. After four chaotic months of constant necessities and tasks and seldom being allowed to rest, infinite free time felt like a curse. He was alone again, floating through the silence with the accompaniment only of his deafening thoughts.</p><p>Phil had asked that he stay away for a few days to allow Tubbo to come to terms with the fact that he would be living in a new place with new people. It made sense. As frustrating as it seemed, he trusted Phil. He knew in his heart that he had made the right decision. Tubbo’s life would be astronomically better growing up on a rural farm twenty minutes outside the city with an experienced father figure than it would in a small rented house right in the centre with some teenager who had no idea what he was doing. This was best for both of them.</p><p>And it wasn’t like he’ll never see him again. He could go right now if he wanted, it had been two weeks after all. He could get in his car and drive there within half an hour; alas, it was so much easier said than done. </p><p>Three times he had sat in the driver's seat, hand on the key but unable to turn it. He had punched the steering wheel and thrashed against the window and screamed so loud people stared but he couldn’t turn the key. He couldn’t bring himself to go and see him because at some point in his isolation that thought of “He is better off with Phil” and shifted and mutated into the malevolent and grotesque “He is better off without me”. </p><p>He is better off without me. Always followed by I am a bad father. </p><p>He deserves better. </p><p>He deserves to be happy. </p><p>I can’t make him happy. </p><p> </p><p>I will only make it worse. </p><p> </p><p>So he would climb out of the car and go back inside. He would go to the fridge and to the couch. He would lay in bed and think about how it had never felt this quiet before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Only short this time but I might do another one tonight</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. February 3rd 2005</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Long one today, boys - this chapter is actually exactly 804 words longer than the last two combined</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>February 3rd 2005</p><p>Opening the fridge that morning and finding it bare save one or two useless ingredients and some expired milk, had been enough to make Schlatt realise that this was getting ridiculous. As futile as life seemed at the moment, he wasn't quite prepared to let himself starve. Pulling his gloves onto his hands, he decided to walk to the store instead of taking the car hoping the cool winter air would do him good. As he reached for the door handle he felt the muscles in his arm involuntarily tense, as if his subconscious was doing all it could to prevent him from moving on with his life. He forced his hand down and pulled the door open stepping out into the fresh morning. </p><p>More snow had fallen the previous night covering the now completely frozen layer underneath. He walked tentatively, careful not to step on any particularly icy patches. Countless eyes followed him as he made his way through the city and, though this was nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed particularly bad today, as if their gaze was burrowing deep into his soul and ripping out his thoughts to display for everyone to see. He couldn’t remember feeling more vulnerable and less like he belonged here than right then on that walk. He raised his right arm and ran his hand over one of the large horns which curled around his ear wondering how hard he would have to pull to tear it right from his head and free himself of the torment they had brought him.</p><p>The store was no better. People looked at him as if he were some wild animal that had somehow found its way inside and was wandering through the building. Aisles were vacated shortly after he entered them and children not-so-discreetly moved by their parents out of his line of sight. The cashier never met his eyes when he paid and he saw them brush off the hand which had taken his money on the leg of their jeans as he walked away. He often wished that he had never had to move to the city.</p><p>On his way home, Schlatt made an effort to distract himself from thinking too much, knowing exactly where it would lead him if he didn't. He made note of the world around him: rows of tall buildings which gradually became shorter and eventually turned to houses lining the sides of the road; patches of grass on which trees grew, currently bare; a woman walking a few paces ahead of him carrying two large grocery bags. He had seen her in the store and although she had left a fair bit of time before him, he must have caught up with her. </p><p>He recognised her as Niki, a close friend of Wilbur's, but he had never known her well. From what his friend had told him, he believed her to be a kind individual who often put the needs of her friends and those close to her above her own. Wilbur had known her long before he met Schlatt and the two still remained firm friends. </p><p>Schlatt slowed his pace slightly, conscious that he would soon overtake her if he continued as he was and wary of the assumptions that would be made if he was seen to walk up quickly behind a woman he hardly knew. They soon reached a particularly icy patch of pavement and he watched as a few times her feet slipped a little on the path before she lost her footing altogether. He jolted forward, steadying her just before she fell. Quickly, he removed his hands and took a step back, picking up the bag which he had dropped in his haste.</p><p>“Oh, thank you so mu-,” she began, regaining her balance and turning to face the man who caught her. She cut herself off when she saw his face, “...Schlatt.” It wasn’t hard for him to tell what thoughts were going through her mind as her eyes darted around, very occasionally making contact with his. Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded and smiled awkwardly to acknowledge her thanks. “Um… I should probably get on, I need to take this shopping to Phil. Thank you, again.” She moved to leave but Schlatt reached forward, catching her arm; he felt her tense in his loose grip. </p><p>“Wait, you’re going to Phil’s?”</p><p>“Uh yeah, Wilbur’s away isn’t he and, well, you know Techno, so he has no one to watch the children while he goes to get groceries. I think Eret has been bringing them for the past few weeks but he couldn’t today so I am.” She started to walk again but he kept up with her.</p><p>“Well okay, but Eret has a car. Surely you’re not gonna walk; it takes me 20 minutes just to drive there and it’s freezing out.” The genuine concern with which he spoke shocked Niki. She had never thought of him as someone with any care for other people. “Let me drive you,” she smiled and began to shake her head, “I live just up there and I was thinking of visiting Phil at some point anyway. There’s no sense in not taking you with me.”</p><p>“Look, I appreciate it but I… I enjoy the cold air! And it’s nice to have a walk.”</p><p>“That’s ridiculous, it’ll take hours.” It was painfully obvious that she wanted to accept his help and he knew the exact reason for her hesitation in doing so. “Please, Niki. I know it’s not ideal for you but I can’t let you go on your own. It has to be a better option than that.” She took a deep breath, assessing her choices carefully before nodding, still with a hint of reluctance.</p><p>“Alright,” she said with a small, brief smile. Schlatt reciprocated and the pair continued to walk in the direction of his home. Niki was fidgety, constantly glancing around and checking over her shoulder. </p><p>Upon arriving, Schlatt quickly unlocked the door and placed his own shopping just inside before putting Niki’s bags in the trunk of the car and holding open the passenger door for her to climb in. They didn’t speak as he started the engine and drove off; it was five minutes into the journey that he broke the silence.</p><p>“I’m not a bad man, you know?” his words were earnest and sincere, loaded with years of pain and mistreatment, “I can’t help,” he gestured to his head, “...this. I would’ve loved to have been born like everyone else here, never have to worry about any of this shit. Am I looking at someone wrong? Did I touch you with my disgusting goat hands?” he took his right hand, which was no different to that of any human, off the wheel and looked at it for a moment before replacing it. “Is it sinful to simply breathe the same air as me?” he paused and glanced at Niki who was looking out of the window on her side. She gave no response. “Better yet, I would’ve loved to have been able to stay at home where I ‘belong’.” Sighing, he turned his attention back to the road.</p><p>“Why did you come here?” her words were well-intended, spoken with genuine curiosity rather than the venom with which he was used to hearing that particular sentence.</p><p>“When I was eleven I got really sick. They couldn’t do anything to help back home so the only option was for someone to bring me to the hospital in DreamSMP and hope that there was something they could do. Took three months to find a doctor who was willing to even look at me let alone treat me; without her, I’d be dead.”</p><p>“Wow,” she had turned to face straight forward, looking far down the road ahead, “I had no idea. Why did you stay? Once you were better?”</p><p>“The delay meant that I was too sick to be completely cured. I could relapse any second - I have done three times, each one worse than the last. If it happened again and I didn’t get any help I’d probably die within a day or two.” Niki found herself shocked by the casual tone with which Schlatt said such morbid words, how he could be so desensitised to the topic of his own potentially imminent death. “We’re here.”</p><p>Schlatt pulled up, parking the car outside the large wooden gate. Tightening his grip on the wheel, he took a slow, deep breath. Memories of the last time he was here flooded his mind and regret brewed in his heart. He was very seriously contemplating the idea of putting the car in reverse and driving straight back to his house but was brought back to reality by Niki's gentle voice asking if he was alright.</p><p>"Yeah," he coughed, "yeah, I'm fine." In one movement he forced himself to push the door open and get out. They retrieved the groceries from the trunk and made their way towards the house. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Schlatt could see Techno returning from tending the farm and entering through the back door. As long as Schlatt had known him, he'd been a reserved, quiet person preferring to keep to himself; when he was spending time with Wilbur, he would often see Techno in the fields or taking care of the animals. That being said, in the times where he had joined the pair or spoken with Schlatt on his own, he had come across as a funny and likeable person who just seemed to have his own comfortable way that he liked to live.</p><p>Phil was the one who answered the door when they knocked, however, surprised to see the two of them instead of Eret, whom he had expected. "Well, it's a pleasure to see you both," he said with a smile, "do you want to come in for a bit? I was just making a tea if you fancy one." </p><p>"That would be lovely, thank you, Phil," Niki responded. Schlatt also accepted the offer as they stepped inside and took off their coats. Phil showed them to the living room before removing himself to the kitchen. Schlatt had always found this room to be so homely - it wasn't overly big and a large fireplace stood in the centre of one wall, warming the whole area. Two large couches and two comfy armchairs were arranged around the hearth creating a semi-circle. A cradle stood on one side of the soft carpet and in it, a blond baby, around ten months old, slept peacefully. In the centre of the rug, his son sat contentedly playing with some block toys. He felt a smile spread across his face and moved to kneel next to the boy.</p><p>"Hello, Moyo Solnyshko." Tubbo turned his head upon hearing the old Baranov nickname his father often used for him. His eyes lit up when he saw Schlatt's face.</p><p>"Papa!" He pulled himself up and Schlatt held his hands, steadying him, as he took a few wobbly steps towards him.</p><p>"Yeah! Papa's here, Tubbo!" he grinned as he scooped Tubbo up and stood back to his full height, "I missed you so much!" </p><p>"Oh, he definitely missed you too," Phil laughed as he reentered the room carrying three cups of tea, "cried for hours for his papa to come back those first few days." Schlatt frowned and looked down at Tubbo who was now resting his head against Schlatt's shoulder, soothed by his father's rhythmic rocking. </p><p>"He's been doing better since?" </p><p>"Yeah, yeah, once he'd settled in he wasn't too bad. Still prefers you to me but I don't think that's really a bad thing."</p><p>"I didn't know you had a son, Schlatt," Niki spoke up.</p><p>"Yeah well, there's quite a lot you don't know about me," his words were unintentionally harsh and it was clear that he had made her uncomfortable, "I'm sorry. Niki, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone he's mine. He's not totally Baranov and he's got a long while until his horns start growing if he gets any. I just want him to grow up like normal for as long as possible and if people know he's related to me… I know that won't happen." </p><p>"Of course," she smiled, "it's a shame that that's even a precaution you have to take." He nodded, sitting down in one of the armchairs and beginning to sip his tea, the boy still lying comfortably on his chest. Silently, he scolded himself for putting this off so long. Sitting in Phil’s living room, warmed by the fire and the tea and holding his son in his arms, he realised this was all he could possibly need.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I cannot describe how much it hurt to write Niki like that</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. September 18th 2005</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything was as it should be. Tubbo was happy. Schlatt was happy. It was good. </p>
<p>By June, Schlatt was taking care of Tubbo every other weekend. He would pick him from Phil's on Friday, sometimes take him somewhere, other times just spend time with him at home, and drop him back Sunday evening. It was a system that worked well for them. </p>
<p>Seven months on from that cold January night, Schlatt was only just about to turn nineteen and still didn't feel he could adequately look after his son full time. The weekends allowed him to spend time with Tubbo without the constant stress and worry he experienced in the first four months he had him. It was better for the boy anyway, to be living on that big farm where he had regular good food and fresh air and a brother to play with. </p>
<p>All of this ran through Schlatt's head as he lay awake at 3 am staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Sleeping had been a problem for him for many years, only heightened when he had become ill. At least, he thought, he was peaceful. His thoughts were calming and the sound of his son's soft breathing from over his shoulder soothed him to no end.</p>
<p>He felt his eyelids finally beginning to grow heavy and his mind slowing down, pulled into the welcoming arms of sleep, only to be jolted awake again not a moment later by a small hand pressing against his arm.</p>
<p>"Papa?" Schlatt lifted his head and turned over to find Tubbo sitting up sniffling. In the low light, he could just about make out the boy's reddened face and quivering bottom lip.</p>
<p>"Hey, hey buddy, what's wrong?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching to wipe the tears from the boy's cheeks. Tubbo sniffed again.</p>
<p>"Bad dream." Schlatt frowned and pushed himself up properly.</p>
<p>"Oh no. C'mere, sweetheart." He wrapped his arms around Tubbo, pulling him into his chest and gently rubbing his shoulder. "You're okay, don't worry. Whatever it was in your dream, it's not real. You're safe. Nothing's gonna hurt you, not while I'm here, alright?" He felt Tubbo nodding and moved to lay back down, the small boy on top of his chest. "You're gonna be brave for me, yeah? My brave boy?"</p>
<p>After a minute, Tubbo shifted over onto his back, snuggling into his father's side. "Papa?" his little voice spoke, no longer shaky from crying.</p>
<p>"Hm?"</p>
<p>"Why have horns?" Schlatt laughed lightly.</p>
<p>"Everyone has them where I'm from." The boy's eyes widened.</p>
<p>"Everyone?" The man nodded, smiling, "I have horns?"</p>
<p>"Maybe one day," Schlatt moved to stroke his thumb over Tubbo's hair in the spots from which his horns would grow, "Mine started comin' in when I was about ten, so I'm afraid you got a little while to wait." Tubbo giggled, reaching up with a small hand to touch one of the dark horns that curled towards Schlatt's ear. "I should take you home with me some time," he mumbled, thinking out loud, "introduce you to everyone. Bet they'd love you." He sighed, memories of his childhood resurfacing in his mind.</p>
<p>"What home?" Schlatt took a deep breath which turned into a yawn. </p>
<p>"Don't you wanna go to sleep?"</p>
<p>"Tell me," Tubbo grinned excitedly, "Story! Please!" He looked up at Schlatt with wide eyes - he could hardly say no to that. He shifted under the covers, making himself more comfortable.</p>
<p>"Home is… cold," he smiled, "It's snowing basically all year round but you don't really notice it because the people are so warm. The whole village works as a big community on everything. Everyone knows everyone. We all have our place and we all get along."</p>
<p>"Lots of people?"</p>
<p>"Quite a lot, yeah. We have four new children every year, one each season. There's a whole ritual and a big celebration, uh party. And I just remembered you aren't even two years old so you probably have no idea what I'm saying. I promise it's great." Memories of joyous feasting and singing traditional songs late into the night flooded his head. The smells of good food and large bonfires so vivid it was as if he were back there. The sound of slow, even breaths once again made their way to his ears. He smiled, allowing himself to become lost in the nostalgia and drift gently to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Subheading for this chapter is: I Don't Know How Small Children Speak And It Was A Bad Idea To Try To Write That</p>
<p>Anyway, hey! I'm not dead, this work is not dead! I finally have a plan for each part and where I want this work to go so hopefully I'll be writing some more soon</p>
<p>This chapter was kinda short and kinda shitty but I'm working on making this fic better and hope I'll be able to do that in the upcoming chapters :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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